Booth, Is That You?
by katydidit
Summary: Does someone on the Squad have a background in acting? Borderline crackfic.


"Fisher? Where the hell is Fisher?"

Jack Hodgins had been looking for Dr. Brennan's gloomy grad assistant for the past half hour, with about as much luck as he was having with the particulates from their newest body. As much as Hodgins hated giving any credit at all to the killers they helped to put away, this guy was thorough. Fisher was supposed to be finding the cause of death, and Hodgins couldn't actually get started with any sort of in-depth search for particulates until the new kid had officially turned the body over to him. As of yesterday, Dr. Brennan had been away—identifying bodies in Nepal or Cambodia or somewhere—and it seemed like nothing was getting done. If Angela was the heart of the Jeffersonian, Brennan was the central nervous system.

Hodgins turned to a couple of interns leaning over a computer. "Colin Fisher? Have either of you seen him? Any idea? No?" They stared at him, deer caught in the headlights of his irritation. Of course they hadn't seen him. He threw his hands up in frustration as he spun around—then collided with a very tall, very muscular someone. Without looking, Hodgins knew who it was, but still his eyes traveled up the very long distance to Booth's face.

"Hey, man. Sorry, I...have you seen Fisher?" His efforts earned him yet another blank stare. "Brennan's grad assistant...kinda creepy? Slept with Vampira a couple of weeks ago....anything?"

"No, haven't seen him. Hey, quick question though. Remember that dead body we brought in? You know, murdered, locked in a trunk?" Booth's words dripped sarcasm and his characteristic venom. Behind them, Hodgins heard the interns scurry away, and was sorely tempted to join them: Booth looked pissed. "Yeah, I was just wondering if you could, you know, help me find her murderer or something. You're not too busy for that, are you?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave him a level gaze.

Hodgins took a step back—he was never too crazy about sharing his personal space with big burly FBI guys—and crossed his own arms. "I would love to help you with that, Booth, but unfortunately I can't do my job until I find Angst McGee. So have you seen him?" He waited for a moment, but got no answer—not that he was really expecting one—and finally pushed past the oversized FBI agent. Fisher clearly was not on the platform—he must have been upstairs somewhere.

"So why, exactly, do you have to wait for Fisher before you can do your job?" Booth was following him up the stairs. Of course he was. Hodgins rolled his eyes. Clearly, the man needed Dr. Brennan to keep him contained—now that she was gone, he seemed to think he could run around and police everyone else.

"Because, Agent Booth, Fisher hasn't determined a cause of death yet. Doctor Brennan likes us to do our jobs in a certain order. First we determine a cause of death, and then I gather particulates. Shouldn't you be out rescuing kittens or beating people up or something?"

He didn't get an answer—which was probably a good thing, actually. Hodgins ascended the final step and paused, trying to decide which way to go. He caught the reflection of a television in one of the panes of glass—bingo. Booth followed closely, and Hodgins got the feeling that he was trying to figure out something to say, but honestly couldn't have cared less. He leaned against the doorway of the lounge, where Fisher was stretched out on a couple of chairs in front of the television. Of course.

"Dude!" Hodgins stepped through the door, utterly bewildered. "What are you doing? Did you forget where you were? Are you finished with the body yet?"

Fisher sat up quickly, and spun around to look at the two of them. "What? Oh, yeah. I've been done—I told Jane to tell you she was all yours...didn't she?" Hodgins didn't answer: just glared at him. Finally, Fisher stood up. "Jane Trebulsy—she's...she's another intern here. We have lunch sometimes. I told her to tell you that I was done with the body almost an hour ago. I guess she...didn't."

"Yeah, she didn't. Generally we're supposed to do our jobs before taking television breaks on the job." Hodgins looked over Fisher's shoulder. "What could be more important to you than doing you job?"

Fisher hesitated a moment, correctly identifying the question as a trap. When Hodgins arched his eyebrows, however, he seemed to realize that it was a question nevertheless. He coughed uncomfortably, and reached for the remote. "I'm, um, watching Buffy. It's about...this high schooler who slays...vampires. It was really popular when it was still on, but now it's, um...in syndication. Look, I'm sorry, Dr. Hodgins. It won't happen again. Are you going to tell Dr. Brennan?"

Hodgins narrowed his eyes at the grad student, and was about to say something, but a commotion on-screen distracted him. The young blonde actress was yelling tearily at someone—a man looking very weak and pathetic. Fisher turned around to watch as well. "See, Buffy's boyfriend got poisoned and the only cure for the poison is the blood of a slayer, so Buffy...she..."

Hodgins didn't really give two shits about plot synopses, but the boyfriend on the screen looked really familiar. He pushed past Fisher, taking a few more steps towards the screen. Booth sidled up next to him, and they both found their eyes glued to the screen. "Hey, um, Booth...you haven't done any acting, have you?"

The larger man snorted. "What are you talking about? That's not me. Looks nothing like me." Hodgins and Fisher shared a Look, even as the camera zoomed in on the boyfriend's face. Booth studied him for a moment, then cleared his throat. "What are you two just standing there for?" He demanded, though Hodgins didn't miss the fact that he was unable to tear his eyes from the screen. "Come on, we've got murderers to catch, crimes to solve."

"Right, sorry, Agent Booth," Fisher said, fumbling with the remote. "Do you need any help with the particulates, Dr. Hodgins? I can, um, join you." He finally found the power button on the remote, and the television clicked into silence. Booth grabbed the remote from the grad assistant and turned it back on.

"I'll take that," he said, stretching out in the spot that Fisher had just vacated. "You two go on ahead. Can't do my job until you're finished. Bones's rules, right?"

Hodgins rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He had particulates to collect and bugs to identify, after all.


End file.
